


Even

by kaiteki



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Fluff, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Sleepy Cuddles, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29274852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiteki/pseuds/kaiteki
Summary: Jihoon comes home late, as usual. Seokmin and Seungkwan give him a safe place to land.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan & Lee Jihoon | Woozi & Lee Seokmin | DK
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	Even

**Author's Note:**

> these boys deserve the world, i'm soft, and this is the result of those two things combined.

After a day with an intensely packed schedule, the only thing to do is queue up something completely mindless on Netflix.

And Seokmin, upon this evening, has gained the honorary title of last man standing.

He isn’t accustomed to being the only one still awake, but given that they’d started out surrounded by the likes of Jeonghan, Jun, and Wonwoo, maybe it shouldn’t be all that surprising. While everyone else had already made their ways to their respective bedrooms, Seungkwan—the second-to-last man standing, as it were—finally nodded off about fifteen minutes ago.

Truthfully, while Seokmin _does_ want to hold out until the end of this episode, he’s slightly jealous of the rest the others are getting. He’d napped for a short while after dinner, but that’s no replacement for actual sleep. Maybe, if he closes his eyes for just a _second_ —

He only gets about half a second before the sound of the front door drags him from his fleeting respite.

It’s Jihoon, of course. It _has_ to be Jihoon, because nobody else would be coming home this late after a schedule like today’s.

He isn’t under any hard deadline at the moment—at least, none that Seokmin is aware of—but once he gets an idea in his head, there’s virtually no pulling him away from the studio. He’d spent the entire night there yesterday. Probably the one before, too. While he _is_ an adult, perfectly capable of making his own decisions, Seokmin gets sympathetic back pain when he spends too many nights in a row sleeping on the studio couch.

Jihoon can sleep pretty much anywhere when he’s tired enough, but he’ll _rest_ better if he’s here.

It’s a sappy sentiment, proven correct as soon as Jihoon rounds the corner to the living room. Seokmin gives him a wave, identifying himself as the only member of the Netflix crew still alert. Jihoon makes his way over, seemingly curious about what they’d been watching—

—and then, all at once, Seokmin has his arms full of exhausted hyung.

He can’t entirely muffle his little “oof” of surprise, but he _does_ manage, for the most part, to rearrange his limbs so Jihoon can sit comfortably in his lap.

Jihoon has always been more affectionate in private than anywhere with an audience. But while this isn’t a particularly alarming state of affairs, Seokmin still feels compelled to ask, “Everything okay?” in case something negative had brought on this sudden desire for contact.

But Jihoon just nods, hair lightly brushing against Seokmin’s chin.

That’s a relief. Seokmin is always willing to lend a listening ear, but he’ll take sleepy cuddles over stressed cuddles any day.

Then he hears a familiar grumbling sound, as unmistakable as it is commonplace. “Are you hungry, hyung?” he laughs, slipping an arm around Jihoon’s body to rub his stomach.

“Mhmm…” Jihoon responds, languid and drowsy, “…tired.”

He really must be, if he’s prioritizing rest over food. He also doesn’t seem annoyed about being coddled—a testament to true exhaustion. His stomach rumbles again, insistent enough that Seokmin can feel it beneath his hand. “Your tummy’s really complaining,” he points out, “You’ll feel better if you eat something before you sleep.”

Jihoon only buries his face further into the fabric of Seokmin’s sweatshirt.

There’s not much he can do if Jihoon really decides to fall asleep here. He’s not cruel enough to keep their hardworking producer from his rest, even if he _would_ be more comfortable with a full stomach.

The fridge is full of leftovers, though, and it would be a crime not to at least _try_ to talk Jihoon into eating something. Both for his own good and for Seokmin’s position as a loving dongsaeng. “Mingyu made dinner,” he prompts, “There’s a _ton_ of rice left.”

The actual main dish hardly matters. It’s all about knowing your audience.

True to form, Jihoon _does_ perk up a bit at the promise of carbs. His stomach does, too, with another loud, achingly hollow sound. This complete transparency forces Seokmin to suppress another laugh. “You wanna eat here or in the kitchen?” he asks.

“…Here, I guess,” Jihoon mumbles, unwilling to move from his spot. “Wait, no,” he abruptly backtracks, “I gotta get up to heat it anyway.” He sounds drained by the prospect.

The thing about Jihoon is that he never says things like that out of an expectation or hope that someone will feel bad and volunteer to do it for him. If he _wanted_ Seokmin to do it, he would _ask_ Seokmin to do it.

Which just makes them want to look out for him all the more.

“I’ll get it,” Seokmin insists, already moving before Jihoon can argue. Seungkwan, on the other end of the couch, stirs a little. Perfect timing. “Sit with Seungkwannie until I get back,” he says, lifting Jihoon from his lap—a method to which he objects with an irritated groan—and depositing him beside their vocal team maknae.

“Wha’ssa matter?” Seungkwan asks, voice still thick with sleep. Despite his obvious confusion, he naturally accommodates Jihoon beneath his arm as though he’d been expecting him.

“Nothing, I’m just reheating dinner,” Seokmin assures him, “You need anything while I’m up?”

Seungkwan shakes his head. “You okay, Jihoonie-hyung?”

Jihoon nods, posture already slackening as he leans heavily into Seungkwan’s side, “Just tired.”

Seokmin feels a weird sort of pride as a look of understanding crosses Seungkwan’s face. Without hesitation, Seungkwan frees the blanket wrapped around his own shoulders, draping it over both Jihoon and himself.

It doesn’t take long to microwave a heaping bowl of rice. Jihoon won’t eat right away if it’s too hot, so Seokmin just makes sure it’s warm all the way through. He reaches for a can of soda, then reconsiders. Chugging caffeine and carbonation right before bed probably isn’t ideal. He opts for a bottle of water instead.

He’s met with a comical sight upon his return. Jihoon is slumped completely over Seungkwan’s legs, face smushed into the arm of the couch on the other side. Evidently reluctant to disturb him, Seungkwan can only shrug helplessly at Seokmin’s visible mirth. It looks tremendously uncomfortable, but Jihoon is dead to the world and _snoring_ , so Seokmin is pretty sure he doesn’t mind.

“That didn’t take long,” he comments, placing the food on the coffee table.

“Between this and his stomach, I’m amazed he’s able to sleep at all,” Seungkwan marvels.

“It’s the war between hungry and sleepy,” Seokmin explains solemnly, “and he’s losing on both fronts.” He sits on Jihoon’s other side, lightly patting his knee, calling, “Jihoonie-hyung…” trying to wake him without pissing him off—easier said than done. “Hyung, there’s food. Eat and then sleep.”

Thankfully, Jihoon opens his eyes without a fight, blinking blearily at his surroundings before remembering where he is. “Dokyeom…” he greets, then, “Seungkwan.”

“Hi,” Seokmin responds, while Seungkwan waves. “Still hungry?”

“Yes, definitely, always,” he scrubs a hand over his face, pushing himself upright. He accepts the bowl and chopsticks from Seokmin with a small, tired smile. “Thanks.”

Seokmin feels a grin spreading across his own face. “Anything for you, hyung.”

Then, on a whim—maybe because it’s late, maybe because Jihoon looks ridiculously cute as he shovels a huge scoop of rice into his mouth, maybe because it’s nice to have the whole team home, or maybe for no real reason at all—Seokmin leans forward to press his lips to Jihoon’s temple.

Stopping mid-chew, Jihoon looks like he’s about to protest, nose scrunching in the way it does when he’s embarrassed. Unfortunately for him, he has extraordinarily affectionate Boo Seungkwan to his left, so he’s quickly met with another kiss on the opposite side. When he turns to look Seungkwan’s way—probably to tell him off—Seokmin can see the exact moment he reconsiders, expression softening.

“You guys are too good to me,” he finally mutters, turning back to his food.

It’s not true. It would take a lot more than some affection and microwaved leftovers to be as good to Jihoon as he deserves.

But it’s late, and Seokmin can’t see any benefit to starting an argument now.

With the rice gone in record time, half of Seokmin expects Jihoon to retreat to his bedroom to sleep for the next sixteen hours. The other half of him gets it right, though, as Jihoon sets the bowl down on the coffee table with a _thunk_. Already sleepy, and now full, he’s just about ready to crash.

Seungkwan notices as well. He bends to grab a pillow from where it had fallen onto the floor, plopping it down in his own lap. Seokmin internally thanks him for his perception.

“You wanna go to bed, hyung?” he asks. It’s a completely rhetorical question that he already knows the answer to.

Sure enough, Jihoon shakes his head. “I’ll stay, if you guys are gonna keep—” he yawns, gesturing vaguely toward the TV, “—watching your thing.”

“Let’s restart this episode,” Seungkwan suggests, “I missed the middle part, anyway.”

Seokmin hits replay. The opening credits roll.

By the end of the first scene, Seungkwan has coaxed Jihoon into his lap. Although “coaxed” might be too strong of a word, because Jihoon seems more than happy to flop down onto the pillow at the first chance he gets. When Seokmin leans over to tuck the blanket around his body, he receives an incredibly charming, lopsided, half-asleep smile for his troubles.

“Thanks,” Jihoon cracks one eye open, making sure Seokmin knows it’s directed at him, “and thanks,” he repeats, tipping his head back to look up at Seungkwan.

When you get as much joy from looking out for another person as from when they do the same for you, is there any way to express the extent of your gratitude? Seokmin pulls Jihoon’s feet into his lap, watching as Seungkwan cards gentle fingers through his hair.

Jihoon thinks they’re spoiling him. They think he’s spoiling _them_.

Ultimately, Seokmin figures, it will all come up even in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments/thoughts are greatly appreciated. <3


End file.
